


Cane and Able

by Bunnywest



Series: Gentleman 'verse [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But only a little, Domestic Fluff, M/M, a tiny bit sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 02:20:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13401399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Stiles is generally grateful for his cane - it helps him get around.Other days, not so much.





	Cane and Able

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SophiSinclair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiSinclair/gifts).



> I blame Sophi for this, her and her damned feels.

 

 

Stiles is grateful for his cane, because it really  is useful for getting around.

And he’s happy to still be here, he is.

But some days, when the ache is bone deep and he can barely stand upright long enough for a shower, he struggles to be grateful.

Those are the days when Sam and Derek quietly take care of Lila, David, Rosie and Noah, while Stiles retreats under his blankets with Peter wrapped around him, drawing away the pain, murmuring words of comfort in his ear, drying his tears, and listening to Stiles berate himself for being such goddam idiot and ending up like this.

On those days, Stiles hates his cane, because it’s a constant reminder of how his own stupidity nearly cost him everything.

It’s top quality, because Peter insisted, custom made for his height, with a smooth solid handle and a walnut stock.

And as he looks at it resting innocuously next to his bed, and he thinks about how he’ll never race down the stairs at speed again, never go ice skating, never run again, he just wants to throw the damned thing through the window.

 

* * *

 

 

Delilah, because she’s Stiles’ daughter through and through, notices his distaste for the walking implement.

She hears Stiles grumbling to Peter, saying “I look like an old man with this thing. All I need is a cardigan and some slippers.”

‘Nonsense” Peter soothes him. “You look dashing, like a young Fred Astaire, ready to break out in song and dance.”

Stiles mumbles something about Peter showing his age with that reference, but Delilah’s not really listening.

Her Papa is right – that _is_ an old man’s cane.

She knows he needs it to walk, but it’s not him.

There must be something better out there, surely.

Something more…..Stiles.

She goes away and thinks about it.

She goes to Sam for help, because at twelve, she needs an adult with a credit card, and she doesn’t trust Peter not to spoil the surprise – she knows that if Papa catches wind, he’ll wheedle it out of Daddy effortlessly, because he’s unable to refuse him anything after the accident.

When she tells Sam what she wants, he gives her one of those giant face splitting grins of his as he tells her “I think he’ll _love_ it, sweetpea.”

 

* * *

 

 

Father’s Day is traditionally a Big Day in the Hale house, even though none of the adults get to sleep in – there are four children under two, and three of them are early risers.

Noah, surprisingly, is the exception, loving to sleep late. Maybe it’s because he’s so active when he’s awake.

Stiles has a ridiculous soft spot for his youngest tearaway, even if he often tells his dad that he thinks Noah is divine retribution for his own hyperactive childhood.

Peter suggests that they let the baby sleep, and Stiles nods his agreement vigorously .

Delilah’s made breakfast, with help from Rosie and David and James and Nick, and Derek knows that the kitchen’s probably a bomb site, but today, he doesn’t care.

He completely adores Father’s Day – the clumsily crafted gifts that all seem to be constructed from jams jars, hessian and spit, the slightly burned toast, the sloppy kisses, the chorus of “Happy Father’s Day!” from five excited voices.

He beams at the horde of children surrounding him, and this year the chorus is even louder, even if the triplet’s contribution is only “DADADADADA” at the top of their lungs.

Peter’s as bad as Derek, his face wreathed in smiles as he sees his three eldest come out bearing trays.

Sam and Stiles are equally enchanted, watching as more of their brood come towards them with breakfast and gifts.

Every single adult in this family is a total sap.

They accept the trays gratefully, all sprawled out on the giant couch with the three toddlers wedged between them.

After they’ve eaten, Stiles rubs his hands together gleefully, saying ”So? Who’s going first?”

James and Nick press small, badly wrapped parcels into the hands of their little brothers, who promptly try to unwrap them, much to Sam’s amusement.

There’s a flurry of paper and exclamations as gifts are opened and examined, as hugs are given and thanks exchanged.

Stiles looks up from where he’s happily opening the chocolates from Rosie when Delilah clears her throat and approaches.

She hasn’t given him anything yet, but she’s holding a long parcel behind her back.

“Here, Papa. It’s for you” she says, a small smile on her face.

He takes it and gives her a quizzical look. It’s fairly obvious what it contains – there are only so many ways to wrap a parcel this shape, after all.

Finally, he tears at the paper and opens it.

He looks at the contents in stunned silence for a moment before letting out a whoop so loud that he wakes baby Noah.

His eyes sparkle with excitement as he examines his new cane gleefully.

It’s sleek and solid and black, but it’s the handle that’s the kicker.

It’s a rounded resin knob, the perfect size to grip, smoky black where it joins the cane but fading to white as the knob widens.  The Bat Symbol is clearly visible, worked through the resin in various places in black ink. The very top of the knob is adorned with a larger version of the symbol.

“I’m Batman!” he crows delightedly, beaming and brandishing the cane.

He’s turning the stick over and over in his hands, smiling broadly, when Peter comes back with a freshly diapered Noah.

“You needed something more your style, Papa” Lila tells Stiles earnestly, and he pulls her into a crushing hug.

He’s barely released her when she finds herself wrapped in Peter’s arms, as he tells her softly “That was very thoughtful, princess.”

“I love it, Lila” Stiles tells her.  “Did I ever tell you that one of my wooing gifts was an original Batman comic?”

“Yes, Papa” she replies, smiling fondly.

David’s looking at him thoughtfully, and he nods, saying “You kinda are like Batman you know, Papa.”

Stiles looks to him for clarification.

And David smirks, looking just like Peter in that moment, as he says “Well, Bruce Wayne’s joints are shot to shit, just like yours.”

Stiles is momentarily stunned by his nine year old’s accurate assessment of his condition, but then he begins to laugh and laugh, cackling until tears are streaming down his face.

 

* * *

 

 

It becomes a thing.

Every birthday and Christmas, Stiles gets novelty canes from his children - a Joker, a Captain America with tiny shields embossed down the length, a Harry Potter cane, because of course he’s introduced his children to the classics.

His collection grows steadily.

Peter ends up having a rack made for them all, because he gets sick of hearing “Peter! Where did I leave my Serpent’s Head?” or “Peter! Did you move my Phantom?”

Peter notices that on the days when Stiles seems a little down, he’ll choose one of the gifts to use, and a small smile will sneak onto his face when he looks at it.

As the years pass, Stiles’ condition does slowly improve. He does the exercises his physio gave him religiously, and Peter draws away any lingering pain and massages oil into his hip every night. He assures Stiles that he really, really doesn’t mind doing it, because it means he gets to put his hands all over Stiles’ ass and thighs.

Stiles doesn't mind either, often finding it puts him in the mood for a different kind of workout.

And the muscles loosen a little, and the pain recedes, and the really bad days become far less frequent.

Slowly, Stiles stops blaming himself quite so much for what was, after all, an accident.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter only gives Stiles one cane.

 

 

He gives it to him for their fifteenth wedding anniversary.

 

They’ve left the four kids with Noah and headed off to spend the night at the same hotel where they had their wedding night, because Stiles is sentimental like that.

They have dinner, sharing a bottle of wine and flirting shamelessly, until finally Peter leans forwards and purrs in Stiles’ ear “Shall we head upstairs for dessert, darling?” in a tone that promises all sorts of things.

Stiles grins widely, and throws his napkin down onto his plate.

When they get upstairs though, instead of charming him sweetly into bed with filthy promises like he’s expecting, Peter sits Stiles down in one of the armchairs and instructs him “Stay there, sweetheart.”

He disappears for a moment and comes back with a familiar shaped parcel.

Stiles looks at it, confused.

“Peter? Why have you bought me a cane?”

“Happy anniversary, love” Peter tells him, handing the parcel over.

Stiles opens the package carefully, and finds a gorgeous cane nestled in tissue paper in a long box.

It has an elegant platinum wolf’s head handle, and the stock is made of rich, dark wood.

But that’s not what takes Stiles’ breath away.

There’s a string of words running down the cane, winding around it in a spiral.

There are a hell of a lot of them, but Stiles doesn’t even need to read more than the first sentence before he recognizes what’s written on there immediately.

_Stiles, you’re the best thing I never expected to happen to me._

_You said you wanted somebody to court you, and I was thrilled when you gave me the chance._

_And then when you asked me to woo you, I knew it meant that you saw something in me too._

_Then, when there was Delilah, you could have walked away, but you trusted me to take care of you both._

_I don’t know why a gorgeous young man like you wants to marry someone like me, and frankly I don’t care._

_I don’t deserve you, sweetheart, but I’m going to marry you anyway, and I’m going to love you, care for you, make you happy, give you more babies, and be yours, until the day we die._

_I love you._

 

He turns to Peter, and his eyes are shining wetly.

“Your wedding vows, Peter?  Are you trying to make me cry?” he says, his voice hitching.

“I just wanted to remind you how much I love you, that’s all” Peter says, and proceeds to kiss the tears away.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
